


To the Moon and Back

by StarsAndSkies (LittleMissWrath)



Category: Mass Effect - All Media Types, Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Angst, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Friends to Lovers, Infiltrator (Mass Effect), Paragade (Mass Effect), Post-Mass Effect 2, Pre-Mass Effect 3, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, Spacer (Mass Effect), War Hero (Mass Effect)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-13
Updated: 2018-06-14
Packaged: 2019-02-14 09:12:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13004544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleMissWrath/pseuds/StarsAndSkies
Summary: "Are you kidding, Admiral? Have you made all the way here to offer me a position as a bodyguard? That's silly, hombre."After Fehl Prime, James Vega has fallen to the slums of Omega, letting the grief and pain take the best of him. Until someone he didn’t expect appeared with a proposal he can’t refuse.





	1. Omega

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> English is not my native language so you'll probably find some grammatical mistakes. I'm sorry!
> 
> I want to thank Ziane, Linaloe and Ilyasviel for their help and support ♥

"With all due respect, Admiral, If you want me back in the Alliance, you must arrest me." Words came out furiously from his mouth, spitting them one by one with frustration, but with determination and pride. It wasn't a threat; it was just the truth. No frills, no lies, no excuses; nothing more to lose. "I mean it, and I'm sorry you've made all the way up here in vain, but I'm not going anywhere."

A sharp pain crossed Jame's face making him squint when he tried to reposition his broken nose. He hadn't had the chance to check his injuries, but he should look terrible judging by the blood covering his clothes and Anderson's stern gaze. Clinging to the railing, James stood up stretching his bruised muscles, struggling to maintain balance controlling the violent trembling of his tired legs, his mind considering the options before walk without knowing where. The Afterlife was too far away, and Aria would kick him out of there if he showed up like that in her club, but his messy apartment was still further away, and he needed a drink more than a doctor. _“I beat those batarian asses,”_ James thought, allowing himself to enjoy for a moment the last bits of adrenaline rushing through his veins. It was stupid, but when those pendejos made such gross comments about Shepard, he hadn't been able to contain his rage.

Before he could leave, Anderson stepped forward, grabbing James’ wrist with enough force to make him turn around. Despite the stern expression on his face, Anderson's was staring at him with the compassion of an old soldier who had been in the same dark place as him, a man who knew how painful it could be to keep going when nothing mattered anymore. James had noticed that same gaze twice; at Shepard’s memorial in Vancouver, and after Fehl Prime, the reason he was drowning himself in cheap whiskey, night after night.

"I'm not going to arrest you or force you to come with me, but you should consider it, son." Anderson approached him, reaching with his right hand the Alliance dog-tags still wrapped around James' neck, putting them at eye level as he showed him his name and his vocational codes inscribed on the striped blue and silvery metal. "All soldiers have experienced the pain of loss in their careers. You, Hackett, Shepard, me, everyone. But you know what? A marine never gives up. We keep fighting day after day, battle after battle, for those we've left behind, to make our decisions worthwhile, no matter how hard they were. We don't forget them, but we must learn to live with it. You need to grieve, James, but not here. Not that way."

Another punch in his sore body would've been less painful than Anderson’s speech. The old marine was right, but even knowing it, James wasn't yet ready to admit his failure in front of him. He knew every day he had spent in that hole, drinking, burning his few savings and getting in trouble, was the same as throwing away his efforts to be someone. Or to be, at least, someone who had nothing to do with his father. He needed this, though. The hangovers the day after, the adrenaline of every fight or the rush of sex, were the only way to channel his anger, to fill, even for just a few moments, the emptiness he felt. It hurt like hell, and it was self-destructive, but at least for him, it worked that way.

James took a deep breath trying to regain composure as he slumped against the rusted metal wall, the few remaining forces leaving him as fast as the tears falling down his bruised cheeks. The memory of the ones lost in Fehl Prime deserved better. For once, he deserved better. He had to do it for himself because he was still alive. "Okay man, tell me about that mission," James mumbled after wiping away his tears with the back of his hand, his voice cracking with emotion.

Anderson's lips curled into a knowing grin, just a few seconds but enough for James to notice. That damn man got him, and he knew it. "I'll give you the data in case you accept the mission. For the moment I can tell you it's about safeguarding someone very important to us," he replied, holding out a white silk handkerchief with the Alliance symbol embroidered in blue and gold.

Too puzzled to answer, James stared at the handkerchief, now stained with his blood and scab, trying to process the information that Anderson had just given him. A bodyguard. It was so absurd that he only wanted to laugh out loud until his battered ribs said enough. But what else could he demand after practically deserting the Alliance? Part of James still thought like a proud marine and Anderson's offer was almost an insult to his ten years of service. "Are you kidding, Admiral? Have you made all the way here to give me a position as an escort? That's silly, _hombre_."

"Think about it, James. It's the only thing I'm asking you. Go home and take a shower. You still have time." Anderson gave James a hand to help him get up before leaving, showing no sign that his cocky reaction had surprised him. "We'll be docked here for six more hours, but if at that time you're not on my ship ready to work, we'll leave Omega without you. Don't lose this opportunity, Lieutenant, because I can't assure you there will be any other."

The way to the slums seemed longer than other times, and the fact that he usually made it drunk, wasn't helping too much. Humans, turians, vorcha... James went unnoticed among all of them despite his horrible look. In any other place, someone would've helped him or would've been scared of his appearance, but at least, someone would've reacted. In Omega, however, that didn't even matter; it was the ideal place to lose himself among people, to forget, to hide, to escape. How much time passed since he had arrived there after graduating as an N6? Weeks, months, who knows, even time was different in Omega.

As soon as James set foot in his modest apartment, the heat, along with the smell of alcohol, tobacco and a dizzying perfume impossible to identify, hit him directly in the face, forcing him to close his eyes taking a deep breath through the mouth to avoid nausea. Everything was as messy as he had left it the last night. His few belongings were on the top of the table he never used, along with the regulatory Alliance backpack and some dishes with dried food. His Alliance fatigues were untouched, tough, washed and folded without a wrinkle, just as the military protocol marked. James couldn't help but smile looking at one of his favourites grey Special Forces t-shirt. Once a marine, always a marine. After Anderson's words, something had awakened within him, a forgotten feeling for a long time, buried in the depth of his soul.

With a knot in his throat, James took off his clothes throwing them into the trash. Even after removing the odd mixture of batarian and human blood, they would always stink like Omega, reminding him the worst of himself over, and over again. Naked in front of the mirror of his bathroom, he checked his injuries, hissing in pain every time he moved his torso, taking special care of his ribs, his nose, and the massive bruise covering his left side. His knuckles still bled when he flexed his fists, and his right ankle hurt like hell now it was free from the fastening of his boots. A deep cut on his right eyebrow, a slashed lip, and a probable mild concussion was the outcome of the fight. If those batarians were in a better shape, or if Anderson hadn't appeared at the right time, maybe he wouldn't have been so lucky. Perhaps he would be another John Doe dead in Omega. No name, no past, no one waiting for him, only the corpse of that soldier who failed.

Feverish, but shaking with cold, James stepped into the shower, growling with anger when the iced water came in contact with his heated skin. The pain in his nose was getting worse with every passing moment, and being aware that there was no painkillers or medigel in the apartment, made him feel even more anxious. His whole life was chaos, and though he didn't want to admit it, that fight with the batarians was the last straw. He needed to move on, no matter what the cost and, if that meant being a mere bodyguard of God knows who, he would do it.

The rough touch of his BDUs on his skin made him smile despite the fatigue and the discomfort. It was like the tender welcome of that special someone who’s always there, like being home again. James reached into his right pocket for the Normandy badge he had carried with him for years, despite the mocking of some other soldiers. It was his lucky charm; a kind of totem he used to stay sane, to remember where he came from and who he wished to be. A small piece of metal that despite everything, still meant too much to him. Determined to honour the oath he had made the day he enlisted, James put the pin back in his pocket before opening the messages on his omnitool for the first time since he had arrived at Omega. One last thing and James could leave that hole without looking back even to say goodbye.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the first time that I try to write a long fic in English, and I know that this chapter was very short, but I wanted to do just a little introduction to James and his circumstances.


	2. Doña Esther

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> English is not my native language so you'll probably find some grammatical mistakes. I'm sorry!

" _Doña_ Esther, it’s me, James."

The red light on the door turned green as soon as James finished announcing himself, giving him access to his landlady's home. The furniture of the hall and the aroma of homemade pork stew were enough for his mind to wander through old childhood memories between San Diego and Rosarito. Like he did every time he visited his abuela, James caressed the mantle of the _Virgen de Guadalupe_ placed on a small altar close to the front door, before crossing himself with a quick movement. It wasn't faith, but tradition, a way to continue remembering his origins, his home.

Three days after his arrival, he woke up in an unfamiliar bed, disoriented and shocked, with a severe hangover and a few bruises all over his body. No one in the Milky Way didn't know how things worked in Omega, and though James never been there before, he also knew it. Everyone had a good reason to be there, and help drunk guys lying semi-conscious in the street, wasn’t one of their priorities. James had been lucky, though, and a white-haired woman named Esther had found him, carrying him to her house with his neighbours' help, despite being a complete stranger to her.

The following weeks hadn't been easy either for James or Esther. He was starting his self-destructive spiral, and she had received the news that her only son had died in Purgatory, a high-security prison controlled by the Blue Suns. They didn't even have much contact since the guy had joined the same band as his father, but a son will always be a child to his mom's eyes.

“Go ahead. I’m in the kitchen!”

Esther’s voice made James smile as he left his backpack leaning against the wall before entering the cosy kitchen, limping with each step. The steam coming out from the cooking pot fogged up the old grey tiles; the aroma of pork, cilantro, cumin and smoked paprika made his stomach rumble with hunger despite the sharp pain. Sitting at the table, Esther was using her portable terminal to watch one of those sensationalists shows on ANN, as she used to do almost every day. They were having an intense debate about Commander Shepard and the Alpha Relay.

James leaned against the door frame, as he put his hands in his pockets, hiding his crushed knuckles. “I don't understand why you continue watching that crap, _Doña_ ,” he said snorting in disgust. One guest claimed Shepard should answer for her crimes before the High Command of the Alliance on Earth, and then, they should let the batarians decide her future. The guy glanced at the public seeking for support as he raised his voice annoyed by the boos he was receiving. “They’re just a bunch of assholes saying nothing but _puras pendejadas_.”

"Watch your mouth, jovencito. Also, I wasn't even paying attention,” Esther answered before looking up at him, gaping at the view of his blackened and swollen face. She stood up with a sudden movement, the chair hitting the fridge behind her. Pointing to the sofa in the small living room, she added: “Damn it, James, what happened this time?”

"Nah, don't worry. It's just a scratch..." he replied, pretending to sound confident, as he sat on the worn couch, following Esther's orders.

As soon as Esther left him alone, James wondered why he hadn't gone directly to the docks, but something inside him had brought him to her door one more time. It was painful to live without looking back, leaving behind family, loved ones, and the people he had met in each of his destinations, now alive only in his memories. Esther would soon be one of them, and that was killing him, though he knew he was making the right choice.

A few minutes later, while he was valuing the possibility of escaping without her noticing, Esther entered the room carrying two bottles of medigel, antiseptic gauze, a black towel and an ice pack. She approached him frowning, with her lips pressed into a thin line, placing the cloth on his chest like a bib. "Bullshit, kid. I'm old, not blind!"

A giggle escaped James' mouth followed by a loud growl of pain, tears coming to his eyes when she lifted his head holding him by the chin, catching him off guard. "Holy...! Be careful, please!"

"I'm sorry, but you brought it on yourself," Esther chuckled shaking her head, as she carefully checked his face. Her fingers barely touched his skin applying medigel on the visible wounds before covering them with gauze. She took his right hand afterwards, following the same procedure with his battered knuckles. "That's all I can do for you right now. You stopped the bleeding, and I've washed and covered those cuts, but you have to see the doctor as soon as you get to the ship."

"Wait, the ship?" James asked, perplexed, still shocked by the pain. "I haven't told you anything yet."

A loud sigh left Esther's lips as she rolled her eyes, leaving the room to come back after a few minutes with a glass of water and a painkiller. "You show up at my apartment carrying your backpack and wearing your fatigues, not to mention that Anderson docked here a few hours ago. Do you think I would not realise, kid?"  

"Yeah, well... I suppose not," James guessed, swallowing the pill with difficulty despite the water, his body begging for rest as the growing need to lay down and sleep a few hours increased with each passing moment.

"Here, take this," Esther ordered giving him the ice pack after wrapping it in a dishcloth. "I know it's annoying but try to keep it in place. It will help with the swelling, at least for now. Any other scratch, as you call them, you want to show me?"

"No, no more scratches." The cold against his nose made James clench his teeth tightly, struggling to control the chill running down his spine, and shaking his whole body. "Thank you, _Doña_."

"You're welcome," she answered before taking a seat in the armchair in front of him, her deep brown eyes fixed on him. "So, you didn't answer my question, what happened?"

Uncomfortable because of her question, James stood silent for a few minutes, realising how ridiculous it would sound when he said it out loud, but lying to her wasn't even a choice. "Nah, the same as on that show you were watching. Those damn batarians were saying awful things about Shepard, and someone had to shut their mouths," he admitted lowering his head, embarrassed, the blush covering his cheeks.

"You have such a huge heart, James Vega." Esther leaned forward as she took his big left hand in hers, grinning, caressing his skin with her thumbs, trying not to touch his wounds. Still staring at him, she raised an eyebrow letting him go before continue talking. "But if I had to bet, I'd say Shepard doesn't give a shit about those comments, and even if she cared, you know she’s perfectly capable of defending herself."

"But, I... ugh, you're right. I don't even know what I was thinking. It was silly, _Doña_. At one time I was just thinking about leaving and the next I was blinded by anger, punching here and there, without caring about anything." James murmured, keeping his tone low, whispering to keep her from hearing his admission. "And I believed I had done well, at least until Anderson found me. I may still do it, even though she didn't give a shit, as you said."

"I'm proud of you, and I'm sure your uncle Emilio will be too, even if you expect otherwise." Esther got up turning around, taking a deep breath. When she spoke again, her tone sounded strange, more emotional than usual. "As much as I would love to continue chatting with you and invite you to lunch, you have something urgent to do, huh? The Normandy won't wait for you forever."

Still processing the name he had just heard, and doubting if his ears were fooling him, James jumped to his feet dropping the ice pack on the coffee table. Anderson's words -"safeguarding someone very important to us,"- returned to his mind like a punch in the gut, as well as the awareness of who the Admiral might talk about, rejecting the thought as nonsense. Esther had to be mistaken and -although he didn’t imagine how that could be even possible,- she had confused any other ship with the Normandy. “The Normandy? Are you sure?”

“Have you ever seen the Normandy before, boy? Because I’ve had her in front of me and I know how she looks.” Esther interrupted him while she walked towards the front door, her lips curved into a sarcastic smirk. “Now go, James. It's time.”

At least he wasn’t the only one terrible at saying goodbye, James realised, grinning, as he followed Esther’s quick footsteps down the hallway to pick up his backpack and go to check with his own eyes whether she was wrong. “ _Doña_ Esther, I wanted to thank you for…” Words stuck in his throat as he spoke, making him incapable of continuing talking. Even if that was the last time he saw her, James would never forget that petite woman. A complete stranger who had shown him that even in one of the most remotes places of the universe, there were people for whom it was still worth fighting.

Esther glanced at him with a knowing grin on her mouth, taking a step forward to give him a brief hug before opening the front door. "Come on, don’t waste more time," she said pointing to the small hall with her head. "And James, I don't want to see you again, at least here."

"Noted."

The metallic clack of the door closing behind him sent a chill through his spine, as he walked towards one of the main passages of the slums, eager to get to the dock as soon as possible, but conscious of the limitations of his still aching body. Whatever Anderson had prepared for him, it would've to wait a little longer, at least until he made sure he was in the right conditions to give his best.

James couldn't help but grin when he left the Apartments, crashing with the usual crowd of curious people surrounding that crazy batarian preacher. Those dangerous and dark streets had seen his fall, but also the second chance that life, God, or whoever it was, had given him only a few hours ago.

After passing in front of the Afterlife entrance, he rushed to the docks, trying not to trip as he dodged the flood of humans and aliens heading to the club, his heart racing fast in his chest due to the uncertainty, and the effort. The docking area was empty though. The artificial orange light of the station seemed even brighter than other sectors. The only audible sound around was his heavy footsteps while he reached one of the huge windows to look outside, as he struggled to regain his breath little by little, cold sweat soaking his back.  

"Holy shit!" James gasped, his palms resting on the glass, eyes opened wide. There she was; the huge, shiny and majestic frigate he had fantasised all these years, the Normandy. Her colours could be different, as well as her size, her crew, and the emblem under which they worked, but, that ship was more than that. She was a symbol, the inspiration to be better, to do it better; a somewhat legend that meant faith, honour and hope for the fate of the galaxy. Approaching the boarding gate, James turned on his omnitool requesting permission to get on board, unable to stop grinning. After all, it would have been worth it.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another short chapter but I'm still introducing James and his life in Omega and his circumstances.  
> Doña Esther is an OC we'll know more about later, as the story progresses and James meets Shepard.
> 
> And thank you [Linaloe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Linaloe/pseuds/Linaloe) for your help. She's an amazing writer so check out her fanfictions!


	3. Luna

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's been a while since the last time I updated this. I'm sorry!

The soft hum of the Normandy’s engines woke Luna from a restless sleep in the middle of the night cycle. She closed her eyes, and snuggled into the blankets, trying to get back to sleep and rest for a few hours before they arrived on Earth.

According to Anderson, she had nothing to worry about, but if she knew the brass as well as she thought, things wouldn’t be that easy. Not as long as the batarians continued asking for her head. She couldn’t blame them though, because if she were in their shoes, she would do the same.

“Shit!” She cursed, sitting on the bed and throwing the sheets to the floor, aware that soon her cabin would be full of Alliance operatives sniffing around, checking every corner and invading one of the few places she had called home. Because she was an outlaw  who had spent almost a year working for a terrorist group. Or it was what they thought, in the same way, that they also supposed her to be dead.

And maybe, that would’ve been the best. People didn’t come back from death, not even the Hero of the Blitz.

Luna rubbed her tired eyes and raised her left arm intending to check her messages, cursing again when she remembered that Anderson had also confiscated her omnitool. What harm could a bloody omnitool do? She had always supported him and his decisions, but this time? This time, even though she understood why he was acting like that, she couldn’t help but feel hurt by his distrust and coldness. Was everyone going to turn their backs on her? First, the man she was in love with, then her stepfather and now one of the most important people in her life.

A low sob escaped from her mouth as she punched the mattress, struggling to hold back the warm tears moistening her hazel gaze. The decisions she made, the orders she followed with no hesitation—they had nothing to do with her but with the future of the galaxy. She would’ve died again, and it would’ve been a happy death if in that way the relay remained intact. Who would believe her though? She was alive, while over three hundreds batarians hadn’t made it. It was something she couldn’t change even if she wanted to.

It was a tough call, but a necessary one.

The FTL jump, sharper than usual, forced her to close her eyes and take a deep breath as she put one foot on the floor to relieve the dizziness she felt since she had woken up. If she had any doubt about it, now she had confirmation it wasn’t Joker who was piloting the ship despite what Anderson had promised her.

“Fuck ‘em all.” Her voice cracked as she wiped a single tear slipping down her cheek with the back of her hand. The Alliance would get the Normandy back, even when she no longer belonged to them.

After getting out of bed, she took off her clothes, and left them on the floor next to the tangled sheets before went into the bathroom. She got up under the shower, sighing with relief as she felt the hot water sliding down her sweaty skin, loosening the cramped muscles of her neck and back and relieving her increasing headache. She soaped herself, lingering in the memory of past scars and studying the new ones, getting used to its presence, to its touch. It didn’t matter what Miranda said; her body wasn’t the same without those old marks, but she wasn’t the same either, even if she tried with all her might.

“EDI? Are you there?” Luna asked, coming out of the shower to pick up two clean towels from the shelf, leaving wet footprints behind. She looked at herself in the fogged mirror, avoiding the bright reddish glow reflected on her beige skin. Not as intense as the first time she had seen it, but enough to be a constant reminder of what was inside her, in what she had become.

“Dammit, EDI! Can you hear me? You don’t even have to answer me. Give me a signal or… I don’t know, whatever!”

“I’m listening, Shepard.” EDI’s voice made her shudder, even though her tone was low, almost like a whisper, as she was trying not to be discovered. A ridiculous idea considering she could talk anywhere on the ship.

“Can you talk? Is it safe?”

“Yes, I’m capable of speak without being detected,” EDI answered after a moment of silence. “I’m operating at the minimum of my abilities, as a simple VI. It will be safe as long as I keep only this channel open.”

“Okay, good work, EDI.” Shepard nodded as she dried herself and wrapped her long hair in a towel. “Who’s piloting the Normandy?”

“One of the Alliance operatives Admiral Anderson brought here. Jeff didn’t resist, as you asked him, though he wasn’t thrilled to leave the cockpit either.”

“Yeah, I can imagine it. Where is he?” Luna came out of the bathroom, barefoot and naked, and leaned against the cold wall in front of EDI’s brilliant orb, next to the main door. It was stupid, but she had never liked talking to nothing.

“They locked him in the Port Observation Deck.” The IV replied.

“Is he under arrest?”

“Not for the moment. But Admiral Anderson grounded him—indefinitely grounded. He has suffered no physical or emotional harm, though.”

“Okay,” she nodded, crossing her arms over her chest. “Something else I should know?”

“Affirmative. A marine called James Vega came on board in Omega under Admiral Anderson’s authorisation.” EDI paused before continuing talking. It was amazing to see how she was adapting her voice and her way of speaking since Joker had unshackled her. “He needed medical care, and a soldier called Campbell accompanied him to the Med Bay. Doctor Chakwas treated his injuries, and he’s resting there right now. There are no charges against Doctor Chakwas either.”

“James Vega, huh? I have no idea who the fuck is that guy. I’ve never heard his name before,” Luna muttered, speaking to herself more than to EDI. She approached the desk, and picked up the clothes Anderson had left for her hours before. After leaving the towels on the back of her chair, she started dressing slowly, unable to stop thinking about that mysterious name. “EDI, could you access his file?”

“Classified. ICT standard protocol, Shepard. Do you want me to hack it?”

Luna frowned, considering EDI’s offer for a moment, wondering what the hell an injured N trained operative woud do on board. EDI could do it in a blink of an eye, but maybe hacking the ICT systems wasn’t the best way to resume her relationship with the Alliance. “No, EDI, thanks. I’ll take it from here. Do nothing suspicious, okay? Keep a low profile.”

A faint smile appeared on her lips when she looked at herself in the mirror, zipping up her old N7 hoodie. It was undoubtedly a smart move. They hadn’t even reached Earth and Anderson was already playing his best cards. Maybe she was wrong about him, and he was still there, watching her back, just as he had always done. She was a soldier, a marine, but also a proud N7 dressed in black, white and red, and his old friend was making sure no one could forget it.

One last look at her cabin and she approached the door taking deep breaths, opening and closing her fists as she hummed the melody of an old song her abuela used to sing to calm her down when she was a little girl. “EDI, I need you to override this door.”

“Done,” the IA said while the light of the security lock went from red to green, allowing Luna to go out into the hall.

“Just one last thing,” she turned around to look at the blue orb, even knowing she could hear her anyway. “Don’t get caught.”

The Crew Deck was silent and dark, illuminated by the reddish emergency lights that have been on since they had returned from the Collector Base. They’re all aware that the Normandy needed too many repairs, but time hadn’t been an ally, especially after Hackett’s goddamn rescue mission in the Alpha Relay. EDI’s help had been invaluable and thanks to her, Tali, Donnelly and Daniels, they could keep flying almost at full capacity.

The entire crew had survived and yet, the Normandy looked like a ghost ship lost in the infinity of the space. She missed them, her friends, her family, more than she would’ve ever imagined when she came back to life in those Cerberus’ facilities months ago. They had parted ways in Illium, between thanks, hugs and handshakes, assuring each other they’d still be there for her when the time came.

The Med Bay door opened with a loud click as soon as she approached it, the room almost as dark and empty as the rest of the ship, except for that man, that mysterious James Vega, lying on his back on one of the furthest stretchers.

She walked to the middle of the room and held on the back of Dr Chakwas’ seat, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath. Her knuckles whitened due to her firm grip while rage spread through her body like burning lava. It wasn’t his fault. They didn’t even know each other. He was there for some good reason and if anyone had to explain why, was Anderson, not him.

Careful not to make any noise, Luna took the chair and sat down next to him, leaning forward to watch him better. The guy was huge, far more muscular than most of the men she had met during her career.

Old scars and fresh wounds covered by medigel marked his dark skin, his bruised lips curled into a faint smile even asleep. He looked younger than herself though, even relaxed. EDI had said he was a Lieutenant, and after watching him closely, she was almost sure he had earned his rank by his own merits. Also, his file classified under the ICT protocol was good proof of that.

A drop of blood slipped down his cheek, catching her attention when she was about to get up and go back to her quarters. She opened a drawer and picked up a gauze, then she bent forward and cleaned his skin to apply medigel in the semi-open wound. It was small but deep, an ugly one. Doctor Chakwas had done a great job patching him up, but medigel always stung a lot at the beginning, and he probably had scratched it in dreams.

“Shit,” she whispered when she realised he was waking up.

His eyes opened, and he gripped her wrist, immobilising her arm before she could get away from him, his unfocused gaze trying to identify her as friend or foe. “What—what are you doing?”

“Easy there, dude. I’m not going to hurt you,” she assured him, grabbing his fingers with her other hand to free herself without hurting him. The stranger frowned without losing sight of her, clearly confused. “So, Lieutenant James Vega,” she continued as soon as the guy released her, rubbing the marks of his fingers etched into her skin. “Who the hell are you and why are you taking a nap on my goddamn ship?”

**Author's Note:**

>  [Tumblr: Starsandskies](http://starsandskies.tumblr.com/)


End file.
